The Department of Mysteries
by Jasmine 'Jazz' Venn
Summary: Dissatisfied with her job as Senior Law Consultant, Hermione decides it's time for a change. Rating may go up.
1. Chapter 1

Hermione Granger, Senior Magical Law Consultant – not that there were any junior ones – sat in her office drinking tea and going through the mail. It was one of countless daily rituals – go to work at half eight, get a cup of tea, and then go through the mail and the Daily Prophet until it's time to start work at nine. Today, however, she didn't really feel like reading the paper, and the mail couldn't possibly keep her busy for half an hour. Only one of her letters was not work-related. She broke the golden seal and read:

_Dear Ms Granger,_

_It is my pleasure to invite you to this year's Commemoration Ball, which will take place on 2 May, 2002 at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As in previous years, the school has generously offered to host both the evening ball and the official ceremonies throughout the day._

_I recognise the importance of your role in the downfall of Tom Riddle and his followers and would be delighted if you could attend the event._

_Yours,_

_Kingsley Shacklebolt,_

_Minister of Magic_

The handwriting was nothing like his, Hermione thought ruefully. It was more likely written by the blond office assistant. He didn't even know about it, probably – his signature was missing. You notice these things when you've been at the Ministry long enough. There was an RSVP card enclosed and Hermione filled it and let it fly back to the Minister's office, or more likely somewhere nearby.

It was strange to think it had been four years. On one hand, her school years and the war felt a world away. On the other, she was twenty-two, and that really wasn't very much. She still had most of her life ahead of her... right?

Trying to put gloomy thoughts aside, she took the first folder from a small pile neatly arranged at her desk. As Consultant, it was her job to perform a final check on all legal amendments proposed by different subdivisions of the Department of Magical Law Enforcment before they went to the Wizengamot. Her evaluation was not legally binding in any way – but her expert opinion had a certain weight. Hermione thought she would really enjoy her job. It should have been varied, intellectually challenging and fulfilling enough. But more often than not, she found herself correcting spelling mistakes and explaining the most basic of laws to people who really ought to know better. On a bad day she didn't even feel like talking to them, just sent them notes with library reference numbers.

As she read the title of the first file, the generally composed Senior Law Consultant barely restrained herself from screaming at the top of her voice.

* * *

Ten minutes later, a very embarrassed Susan Bones was shifting awkwardly in a chair in front of Hermione's desk. She didn't know why she was called so early in the morning but it couldn't be good.

"Susan, I received a proposal for a marriage law by the Administrative Registration Department this morning. Am I right in thinking you were the head of the team working on the proposal?"

"Yes, Ms Granger."

"You don't need to call me that, Susan. We went to school together, after all."

"Okay... Hermione."

There was an uncomfortable pause during which Hermione took a deep breath and Susan suddenly became very intrigued by her nail polish.

"Susan, can you please explain to me what the motivation behind this project was?"

"Well... the war had many casualties, most of which from muggle or mixed families and since this significantly decreases the numbers and genetic variety in the magical population..."

"... you decided it would be a great idea to force people into arranged marriages so they could have more babies." Hermione finished with an even tone. "And how exactly did you find out that there was a problem with the magical population in the first place?"

Susan Bones swallowed audibly. For a fraction of the second she contemplated not replying.

"There was a Daily Prophet article about it," she said, quietly. Hermione had the mercy not to ask her to repeat.

"So you read an article in the paper and decided to write a law based on it. If you had actually bothered to check the birth and death records kept by the Administrative Registration Department – where you work – you would have seen how factually misguided that article was. Forget the research, even – some common sense would have sufficed. We've had worse wars, and birth rates jump naturally afterwards, both in muggles, and in wizards."

Susan Bones was picking at her nails, the even coat of bright green nail polish had turning into a mess.

"But you evidently didn't do your research and thought that the natural thing to do after a war against pureblood supremacy and oppression, the best thing the Ministry could do, is to force people into arraged marriages. And I've not even touched on the issue of international law and basic human rights yet." Hermione caught herself raising her voice and remained silent for a second, her hands shaking with anger and frustration. The witch in front of her was on the verge of tears and for a moment she took a perverse pleasure in hurting her. "By neglecting your responsibilities, you are a threat both to the Ministry of Magic, and to the entire British magical community. Now please leave my office and make sure I don't receive anything like that ever again."

As she left, Susan Bones nearly knocked over the chair she was sitting on. She tried her best not to cry but as she reached the end of the corridor, Hermione could hear her sobs. Unsurprisingly, the encounter didn't lift her mood and with a frown she opened the second file for the day.

* * *

Later that day, Hermione found herself in The Leaky Cauldron, staring at the bottom of a half-empty pint. She was interrupted by a familiar fatherly voice.

"The youth these days... Drinking in the middle of the week, are we?"

Arthur Weasley looked the same as ever – tired, happy and going bald. After the war, he had found himself an honorary member of the Wizengamot and a war hero carrying more medals than could be comfortably fitted on a robe.

"Arthur, it's so good to see you!" Hermione exclaimed, genuinely happy to meet someone not out of their mind today. "What brings you here?"

"Molly wanted some robes fitted and I'm just waiting for her. What about yourself?"

"Tough day at work," the witch offered. To her surprise, Arthur frowned slightly.

"Not as tough as young Miss Bones had it, from what I heard. Rumour is, she spent her day sobbing at her desk."

"I... had an argument with her," Hermione confessed. "She had this law proposal that was just ridiculous and I lost it."

"You know, this was her first big project. She must have worked very hard on it."

"It really didn't look like it. It was really irresponsible of her to do what she did! If that sort of law gets passed, it could mean the end of magical freedom and democracy, and..."

Arthur took Hermione's hand in his in a warm gesture.

"I really think you ought to give the Wizengamot more credit than that. Most of us have been around for a while longer than you and Miss Bones and we are rather fond of democracy."

Hermione's fist clenched under the table. _How dare he lower me down to the level of that stupid little woman?, _she thought. She couldn't really say anything like that to Arthur's face though.

"I hate my job sometimes." was the only way she managed to respond.

"Hermione, you are the brightest witch of your age. I don't think that you realise it but your opinion is so highly valued that you are one of the most influential people at the Ministry. It's a tough job but you need to grow up and live up to it."

The witch felt like a child being scolded for eating too many sweets before dinner. Arthur had a point (he usually did) but she couldn't help but feel disappointed by her job. She'd considered leaving but she couldn't, really – Kingsley had created the position for her I the first place, so that her voice could be heard. Hermione knew that what she was doing was important – but that wasn't enough any more. There was no excitement in it, and very little learning. She envied muggles for their universities – even if they were just delaying the inevitable.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: A Belated 'Hello'**

**Hello and thank you for checking out my story (and sticking with it past Chapter 1)! Missing out the A/N last time was completely unintentional and I'm sorry.**

**I hope you've enjoyed reading so far – why don't you leave me a review and let me know of anything you particularly like or dislike? I don't have much experience with fanfic, so some feedback would be great!**

**Cheers,**

**Jazz**

* * *

April dragged on forever but when May finally arrived Hermione found herself less enthusiastic about the ball than in previous years. With work proving to be disappointment after disappointment, she didn't feel like spending time with her colleagues outside of office hours. However, she didn't want to send the wrong political message either.

The Commemoration Ball had started as a small gathering organised by Professor McGonagall for the one-year anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. She had called some of those who had fought – Hermione included – to give a talk to the students and then attend a formal dinner at the High Table. The Minister (or more likely his PR team), however, had insisted on funding and popularising the meeting, quickly making it the most important social event of the year. It became the adopted child of post-war political propaganda. An annual school trip was organised for the students, so they wouldn't be in the way.

Dressing for the ball was an art in itself. People made a point of wearing something that reflected their social status or political opinions. Hermione chose a dark violet a-line dress with diamonds scattered around like stars on a midnight sky. A spell made the 'stars' twinkle and slowly rotate. More elaborate outfits were common, and showing off House pride was almost a cliché.

The champagne reception was held on a floating platform above the lake. Hermione looked around the platform, taking the scene in. Harry and Ron were talking to a group of younger wizards, most likely trainees from their department. She could overhear Kingsley patiently explaining the different elements of his white tie to his great aunt, who had come all the way from Egypt. At the other end of the platform, Zabini scowled, probably just waiting for his Slytherin friends to arrive. He was wearing a beautifully tailored classic black dress robe. It fit him so well that he could easily have been on a Witches Weekly poster.

Hermione was trying to move her gaze away from the criminally good-looking purist when something colourful caught her eye. She knew who the dress belonged to instinctively, and looked around for the familiar face. And sure enough, Luna Lovegood was there, talking to a tall grey-haired witch.

She looked... good. Happy, definitely. She had that carefree expression on her face, as if she couldn't sense the tension in the room, and didn't care about the significance of the evening. Luna had left Britain nearly three years ago to explore the world, and must have returned very recently. The journey had evidently been good for her – she seemed to have escaped the whole "adult life is terribly disappointing" revelation the Ministry had brought Hermione. She was about to go and say hi when dinner was announced. The platform stopped by the shore and everyone headed to the Great Hall.

There Hermione found herself at a table with Arthur and Molly Weasley, Lavender Brown and her fiancé, Zabini and the woman Luna was talking to. The young witch recognised her as Dame Charlotte Nightingale, the Head of the Department of Mysteries.

Dame Nightingale was a disconcerting person. Educated at Beauxbatons, she had spent most of her life advising leaders of both muggle and wizard origin, usually on matters of war. The Second Wizarding War she had spent in China. All of this Hermione knew from her public Ministry profile. Everything else about the woman was a mystery – especially why she would leave a life of travelling and settle down in Britain, or why she would choose that particular department, when she was obviously well suited to be in charge of Aurors. But you can't really ask Unspeakables that sort of thing. Or anything, for that matter.

The Dame spent most of her time in a quiet conversation with Zabini. Hermione saw him occasionally around the Ministry but never really bothered to find out what his job was – maybe he was an Unspeakable too? She couldn't help but eavesdrop on the conversation.

"I understand your issues, Mr Zabini, but she is the best qualified witch for the job. A fair bit more than you, may I add."

"With all due respect, madam, she is insane!"

"I will not have you insult a fellow colleague and a war hero in front of me, Mr Zabini" Nightingale replied icily. "Now I suggest you shut it and go back to your meal before you find yourself in need of a new job."

Hermione smiled at the Dame without even realising it. The older witch, however, did, and the conversation quieted down to an almost inaudible whisper. As Hermione took a sip of wine, something clicked.

_Zabini working at the Department of Mysteries. Has been recently paired with someone he really doesn't like – someone who fought in the Battle of Hogwarts. Luna talking to Dame Nightingale. Luna, who recently returned to Britain._

It made a strange sort of sense. Luna was the only one Hermione could think of who she didn't know the career plan of. She certainly fitted the profile of war hero, probably newly employed, capable (and qualified, apparently), and unpleasant to Zabini. And her knowing Dame Nightingale was rather unlikely, wasn't it?

But why would she work at Mysteries? That's what Hermione really didn't get – the only time she had set foot there was when Sirius had died. The experience had been traumatic enough for everyone, so why go to that evil place again... voluntarily?

* * *

Hermione was tired. The only men she hadn't danced with yet were Harry, who was even more sought after than her, and Zabini, who probably wouldn't touch her if his life depended on it. She went to get something to drink when Luna bumped into her. The two had waved at each other seveal times throughout the evening but hadn't had the chance to talk.

"Hermione, would you like to dance?" the blonde asked, her voice even dreamier than usual.

"Oh, Luna, I.. erm..." She was about to say no but then thought better of it. "Yes, that sounds lovely."

The dance was a slow foxtrot and Luna effortlessly took the lead, for which Hermione, who was a passable dancer at best, was grateful. As they were moving around the dance floor in large smooth (on Luna's behalf) steps, she asked innocently:

"So when did you arrive back in England?"

"Two weeks and three days ago."

"And what have you been doing since you arrived?"

Luna looked her in the eye for several long seconds. The expression on her face didn't change at all, and Hermione could only guess what her friend was thinking. Finally, she replied.

"I'm working at the Ministry. But I can't talk about my work." The two danced some more in an awkward silence. Hermione was feeling a little dizzy from all the wine and spinning around.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry. I was just wondering... why did you become an Unspeakable?" she blurted out. Luna didn't respond immediately.

"Some questions have no answers" she said and smiled as if she had just remembered something particularly funny or clever. She then kissed Hermione's cheek lightly and left.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Want more details?**

**Thank you guys for the reviews, follows and favourites! It's great to know people are enjoying the story so far.**

**If you are interested in pairing(s) and a little more information on this fic, go check out my profile for a longer but still pretty vague description. If you prefer surprises, make sure you don't. In either case, have in mind that I'm not writing a love story – it's tagged drama / adventure for other reasons. I'll update the information on my profile as the story progresses.**

**As before, reviews are more than welcome – I could use both the encouragement and the constructive criticism (I do like encouragement better, though)! I'll respond to anyone with PMs enabled, so feel free to ask me questions.**

**Cheers,**

**Jazz**

* * *

Two weeks later, Hermione ran into Luna in the cafeteria. Unspeakables rarely went there, and Hermione had heard that their department had its own canteen downstairs, though she didn't remember seeing it all those years ago. The blonde was levitating two large mugs of what was most likely tea above her head and nearly spilled them when she bumped into her.

"Hello, Hermione." Luna said in her dreamy, absent-minded way.

"Hey, Luna, I'm sorry. I didn't expect to see you here."

"That's okay. Blaise and I needed something refreshing, but we've had an accident with the kitchen downstairs," she sounded a little amused. Hermione raised a brow. Since when were they on first name basis? Hadn't Zabini spent his entire evening at the ball complaining about her to their boss?

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"No, it's fine. I enjoy it when work is a little more exciting."

Luna flashed her a smile and left, the two mugs of tea rushing to catch up with her. Hermione's hunger was suddenly gone as well. It bothered her that Luna worked for Mysteries. It bothered her a lot more than it should.

Back in her office she had an unexpected guest – a very nervous Ginny Weasley. The redhead was practically jumping around, and was blushing so hard that her face did, in fact, match her hair.

"Are you... okay?" Hermione asked slowly. For a moment it looked like Ginny had lost her voice.

"Willyoubemymaidofhonor?" she blurted out.

"Oh, Merlin, he finally did it! He proposed! Honey, I'm so happy for you!"

Hermione had known that Harry had been carrying a ring around for about half a year. He had almost proposed on at least five different occasions that she could recall but somehow the famous Gryffindor courage always left him when it came to his girlfriend. It was a miracle that Ginny hadn't accidentally found out sooner. But then again, miracles were very much Harry Potter's forte.

"Of course I'll be there for you!"

"Oh, I'm so happy! Everything is just perfect, you know?"

Things had really been going great for Ginny Weasley. Much to Harry and Ron's protests, she had decided to join the Auror Office and was soon to become a fully certified officer. She passed her exams with such ease that Ron kept joking she was on her way to becoming a second Hermione. Not that Hermione had any taste for battle... Then Ginny and Harry had moved in together, and now he was proposing.

Meanwhile, Hermione had gone through a messy breakup with Ron, which, courtesy of one Rita Skeeter, even made it to the Daily Prophet. She had somehow convinced herself that a career in magical law was the best she could do, and was growing increasingly disappointed by her choices. And she was growing apart from Harry and Ron and didn't know what to do about it. It's not that they were fighting, they were just... different now. Hermione was genuinely happy for her friend but she was also not above being bitter. It must have shown, because when Ginny spoke again, she sounded concerned.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"It's okay, Ginny. I'm just tired, is all. But I'm really happy for both of you!"

"Thank you," Ginny replied, hugging her tightly. As she made her way to the door, she said one last thing. "Maybe you need a change, you know. Something to break your rhythm for a little while."

* * *

The same evening Hermione found herself staying late at the office. She couldn't remember the last time that had happened. Usually she left the second the clock hit five thirty, having no need or desire to stay any longer than was absolutely necessary. Now, however, there was research to be done.

At first Hermione told herself it was entirely theoretical. She was doing this only to make a point – to show herself that she had, of course, made the right decision. But as she looked at the messy parchment roll in front of her, she just wasn't convinced any more.

_Staying at MLE:_

_Pros: Being useful; there's no one else who can do the job_

_Cons: People_

_Travelling:_

_Pros: See different cultures; learn new types of magic (make sure you go to China)_

_Cons: No purpose; only postponing the problem; expensive_

_Hogwarts:_

_Pros: working for McGonagall; living in Hogwarts_

_Cons: having to teach the basics; having to discipline students_

_Auror Office:_

_Pros: with Harry, Ron and Ginny; being useful_

_Cons: three years of training; fighting again; probably not that interesting anyway – don't want to be chasing petty criminals_

_Misc:_

_go to uni? science but no magic – probably not worth it_

_what's with Mysteries – look into it_

_other departments?_

_France?_

_Start your own... what exactly?_

Sighing, Hermione Accio-ed the Ministry Regulations from a bookcase opposite her desk. She frowned a little at the heavy tome. While some chapters had pages nearly falling off, others were barely ever opened, the paper looking fresh and smooth. A world of new possibilities maybe? Or more likely of predictable disappointments. In a couple of hours she would have a pretty good idea.

* * *

"Please take a seat, Miss Granger."

Professor McGonagall looked the same as ever. It was strange, Hermione thought, how past a certain age, wizards just seemed to stop ageing. The two of them were in the Headmistress's office. It looked very similar to how Hermione remembered it from Dumbledore's time – with the addition of a large box of ginger biscuits and two new bookcases.

"Thank you," Hermione took a deep breath. "It was very kind of you to invite me. I wasn't expecting an answer so soon, I thought a letter within a week or two or a month maybe..."

"Calm down, Granger, this is not a job interview just yet. You wanted to know what teaching here is like, and whether we have vacancies. It's just two friends having a conversation. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Madam."

"Now, as a matter of fact we are looking for teaching assistants – to be trained for a teaching position – in both Transfiguration and Potions. Professor Slughorn is very keen to go back to being retired, and I myself have enough duties as Headmistress to keep me busy.

As a teaching assistant, you will be expected to check and go over homework, help out at practice exercises, and monitor the halls when necessary. I assure you these tasks are more than enough to keep you busy. You'll also be taught things like lesson structure and how the curriculum is organised, until you can show that you are competent enough to do so yourself."

Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her chair. So far, McGonagall was just confirming her expectations.

"Is there anything else?"

"There are, of course, school events, trips, et cetera. And you will find yourself assisting more than one student through a rough patch every now and then."

"What I meant was, with such a wonderful library and resources available, I thought there would be room for... research, maybe?"

The Headmistress sighed. She had been expecting this and she really didn't like it, the younger witch realised. The thought gave her shivers down her spine.

"Hermione, between you and me, I don't think you are ready to come back to Hogwarts just yet. I know that a career in the Ministry can be a bit disappointing – I've worked in your department as well, you know – but Hogwarts is not the answer for you. Live a little. Find what you love, and then come back and teach it, if you like. I'm sorry but I can't give you a job just because you don't know where else to go."

"I'm awfully sorry," Hermione said, trying to stop the tears welling in her eyes. She never could take criticism well, especially from her favourite teacher.

"You don't need to be sorry. If you are interested in research, maybe you should talk to Dame Nightingale?" Hermione was about to protest but the Professor didn't allow for interruptions. "I'm not saying you should go work for her – after all that happened at the Department of Mysteries during the war it's perfectly understandable that you wouldn't want to. But there is no one better connected than their Head when it comes to magical research."

This gave Hermione food for thought. She had been curious about Nightingale for a while now, and this was an opportunity to talk to her one on one. She still felt uneasy about Mysteries but if the Headmistress was right (which she tended to be), there was no reason to spend much time talking about the department.

After some pleasantries and more than a few reassurances were exchanged, Hermione left Hogwarts feeling considerably better. Maybe things weren't as grim as she thought? She decided to owl Nightingale first thing in the morning, and then arrange to meet up with Ron and Harry – and talk both wedding and business.

* * *

Hermione's owl got back with the Dame's answer less then an hour after she sent it. Tied to its leg was a short note written in a beautiful script.

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_Would you like to have lunch together sometime this week? Let me know when works best and I'll arrange for you to be picked up._

_Kind regards,_

_Charlotte Nightingale_

After a short exchange of notes, the two agreed to meet on Tuesday. On the day, Hermione realised she had forgotten to ask where they were going – and who was picking her up. It turned out to be a middle aged man with a tired expression on his face. He told her that they were going to the Dame's office and didn't talk much apart from that.

As the elevator announced Level Nine, Hermione was surprised to discover her lack of panic. Sure, she was nervous, but this had nothing to do with her one and only trip to the department. It felt like regular nerves before an important meeting.

Hermione was familiar with the Level Nine hallway, since this was the only way to the courtrooms, which she visited on a regular basis. It was cold and uninviting with its black tiled walls and ancient torches. However, as she and the Unspeakable went through the door at the end of the corridor, she was in for a surprise. Instead of the spinning room with the handleless doors designed to disorientate, she found herself in a rather inviting Entrance Room. It was still circular, but all doors were different and clearly labelled. The Unspeakable motioned to a dark mahogany door with intricate carvings. The golden plaque on it read _Charlotte Nightingale, Department Head_.

"Miss Granger, it's such a delight to see you!" the Dame greeted as they went through the door. "Trevor, thank you for bringing her in."

The Unspeakable nodded curtly and left the room, closing the door behind him. Hermione looked around and was surprised to see that the Head's office looked warm and inviting. It was full of bookshelves and beautifully decorated furniture. There was a small coffee table in one corner, complete with a heavy teapot and a cake stand. The office altogether created the impression of a place of rest, rather than work.

Nightingale motioned to an armchair and Hermione sank in it. Trivial pleasantries were exchanged.

"In your letter you mentioned you might be interested in research, though away from the Ministry. May I ask what makes you unwilling to apply for Mysteries? We are, after all, the leading research institute in the country."

The young witch froze for a second. She was hoping she wouldn't be confronted so directly, and wasn't expecting this to be the very first thing the two discussed.

"I.. feel I need a break from the Ministry. For the time being at least." The Dame squinted at the answer. Hermione had the uncomfortable feeling that she knew that was a lie and was only deciding whether to confront her straight away or later.

"I understand," the Head answered, evidently deciding on the latter.

Over lunch, which appeared on the coffee table soon after, the two discussed research opportunities in Britain. Hermione found out that there were two independent research institutes she could join, though Nightingale had significant criticism towards both of them. Then there was also the medical research division at St. Mungo's, but Hermione wasn't overwhelmingly enthusiastic about working in a hospital.

"So what do you want to do, exactly?"

Hermione realised she had absolutely no idea. She wanted to know everything – how transfiguration really worked, why muggles couldn't become ghosts, what made some animals magical and others not. How was she supposed to pick with so little prior knowledge?

"Time," she panicked and said the first thing that came to mind. "How time-turners work. I had one in third year and..."

"You were here in the department when all time-turners were irreversibly damaged, were you not?"

Hermione's heart sank.

"I'm sorry."

"That was a night of many losses, Miss Granger. The Time Room, of course, suffered the most. We are, however, still conducting research there – including on the time-turners, which are seemingly stuck in a loop – and are also currently recruiting. Now, I understand that this department has a certain reputation that has to do both with its long history and with its current administration. I do insist you take a look though. It is a completely different place during working hours, as you can probably imagine."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Merlin**

**Hey everyone!**

**Writing's a bit slower than expected but I got a summer job and I've started on my reading list for uni, so I'd say that's enough of an excuse. Hopefully things will pick up a bit though.**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter – Draco finally makes an appearance! Reviews are, as always, welcome.**

**Oh, and well deserved five points to anyone who knows what Merlin sickness is without looking it up.**

**Jazz**

* * *

Hermione was invited to dinner at Harry and Ginny's the following Saturday. Ron would also be there. She had already talked to Kingsley, so this seemed like the perfect opportunity to finish with the career conversations she had planned.

During the meal, however, the atmosphere was a lot more tense than Hermione expected. She couldn't tell why, but Ron and Ginny kept shooting each other angry glances, while Harry was doing his best to pretend nothing was wrong.

"So, erm..." Hermione started awkwardly, staring down at her steak. "I've got some news."

She paused for a breath, and saw that Ron had suddenly become very still. What was he thinking? She looked him straight in the eye as she said:

"I'm resigning from my position as Senior Law Consultant."

"Hermione, this is fantastic news!" Ginny said. Everyone suddenly relaxed. "I know you never really enjoyed it all that much. Have you thought about what you want to do then? Of course you have, I'm sure you wouldn't resign just like that..."

"You must join us in the Auror Office" Harry exclaimed, interrupting Ginny. "You could probably pass the training a lot faster and you'll be with us in no time! It would be just like in school!"

"That's true, if I can get such high marks, you could probably do the exams with your eyes closed!"

"Guys, I'm not joining you at the Auror Office. I think I've fought enough crime already." Hermione stopped them. A shiver ran down her spine.

"So where are you going then? Back to Hogwarts?"

"No, I'm... I'm joining the Department of Mysteries."

The room was dead silent. Ginny was a bit startled. The look on Harry's face was a mix of confusion, disbelief and disappointment. Ron was red with anger.

"HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO HARRY?" he shouted out of the blue. "AFTER ALL VOLDEMORT DID THERE!"

Hermione was speechless. Her lower lip was trembling and she felt her eyes water.

"Ron, the department isn't like what you think, I..."

"AND WHAT IS IT THEN? IT'S A BLOODY DUNGEON FULL OF DEATH EATERS AND DARK MAGIC!"

The redhead stormed out of the room. Hermione was about to shout something – anything – back at him but Ginny stopped her. It was Harry she had to talk to first.

"Mione, how could you?"

"It's a good place. It has nothing to do with what it was like when we went there – or when Voldemort had control over the Ministry. People do research there, they study so much! And I know it's full of Slytherins, but none of them are former Death Eaters. Unless you count Malfoy, that is. And besides, Luna works there too!"

"Luna? Hey, about Luna..." Ginny scowled at Harry and he shut up. "Never mind, it's none of my business. I just can't believe this. Mysteries is a bad place, Mione, and there's something off with that woman Nightingale. You shouldn't go, it's dangerous."

"Harry, I appreciate your concern – I really do – but I've done my reading. You'll have to trust me on this, okay? I know what I'm doing."

"I've got your back, just so you know.

"I do," Hermione sighed. She could see Harry was hurt but after she had decided to go back to Hogwarts when he and Ron joined the Auror trainee programme, he had come to accept that Hermione wasn't always going to be with them. She thought he was probably more mature about it than she would have been if it was the other way around. Only it could never be the other way around, could it?

Hermione went out to try and talk to Ron. He was pacing around the house. As he saw her, he threw his half-smoked cigarette to the ground and stepped on it, burying it deep into the dirt.

"I don't want to talk to you right now, you bloody traitor," Ron said. Hermione decided she had had enough.

"Ronald Weasley, will you please grow up? I will not allow you to talk to me like that. I've made my choice and I expect you to accept it."

"Mione, how could you?" he sounded miserable now, rather than angry. "We were a team! And now you want to be an Unspeakable? Having to keep secrets from us is just wrong. I'm sorry, but it is."

"Like I haven't done that before," the witch spat and left.

* * *

On her first day of work a couple of weeks later Hermione was in for a surprise. Well, quite a few surprises, really. One of them, however, was more than she felt she could deal with. It went by the name of Malfoy.

Hermione was supposed to report at the Dame's office first thing in the morning, in order to be introduced to the people she would be working with. She was joining the Time Research Division – she hoped she would get to study time-turners. Ever since her third year at Hogwarts, and especially after the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, time magic had interested her. However, it was precisely the type of magic that only Unspeakables had access to.

So despite the fight with Ron, Hermione was enthusiastic about starting work. That is, until she met her supervisor. She arrived at the Dame's office a bit early and was deep in conversation about the social aspects at working in Mysteries over a cup of tea when someone knocked on the door.

"Come in" Nightingale called and the door opened to invite the newcomer.

"Charlotte," Malfoy shook Nightingale's hand and then offered it to the younger witch as well. "Hermione, it's a pleasure to have you working for us."

The gesture took her by surprise, and she responded automatically. Then reality – or what was left of it – caught up with her. There's no way she was helping the ferret play Mr Nice Guy in front of their boss.

"Malfoy, what are you doing here?" she asked bluntly. To her surprise, it was Nightingale who replied.

"Draco will be supervising your work at the Time Division for the first few weeks. I'm afraid that Ethan, who is the head of division, is temporarily unavailable. And, as I mentioned earlier, it is customary for all employees to use first names when talking to each other."

"But he's my age! How could he possibly be an adequate supervisor?" Hermione protested.

"He's been working here for nearly four years, Hermione. Not to mention that both the Time Room and the Hall of Prophecy suffered so much from the war – and more specifically from the battle that Potter led against Voldemort's forces here. Most of our time researchers left us for agencies with better facilities worldwide."

"When is this Ethan coming back?"

"We are not sure. He's at St Mungo's at the moment. In the mean time, Draco is your only colleague. He is good at what he does, and I trust him to teach you well before he gets relocated."

With this Nightingale put and end to the conversation and the door swung open again, this time to let them out. The two walked in silence to the Entrance Room.

The Time Room was behind what Hermione thought was the most beautiful door. It was all glass and clockwork, and the soft light it emitted along with a gentle ticking noise made it feel alive. The door was decorated with a beautiful golden hummingbird that gently moved her wings. Hermione was entranced but Malfoy ruined the magic of the moment by pushing the door handle and inviting her in his oily voice.

The Time Room, however, was far from what the door promised. Hermione had briefly seen it before, but due to confidentiality issues Nightingale hadn't exactly given her the grand tour. The place, which had suffered greatly six years back, looked gutted. Most of the clocks she remembered were gone, and the ticking sound was very faint. The room was huge and empty. It was dominated by two huge bell jars – both of which she didn't remember seeing on her previous visit a few weeks ago. One was broken, and Hermione felt sick at the thought that she was responsible. Six years ago she had stunned a Death Eater and he had fallen right through the glass – that was a sight difficult to forget. The other bell jar was its exact twin, though it looked like it was under construction instead.

"I'll be sorry to let this one go" Malfoy said in an even, emotionless voice. "Anyway, first thing's first – health and safety."

"Like you would care," Hermione laughed.

To her surprise, Malfoy simply ignored her and walked to the far end of the room. There was a bright red oval of light around what was left of a large glass-fronted case that kept falling on the ground and then reassembling itself back together. The time-turners. When Hermione first talked to Nightingale about studying them, it was half desperation and half enthusiasm. Since then, however, she had reflected on the subject and realised she was genuinely interested.

"These are, as I'm sure Charlotte has already told you, all but four existing time-turners in Britain. Most of the division's efforts over the last six year have gone to repairing the case. We've had little success so far."

"And what is that?" Hermione asked, pointing at the red oval.

"It's a shield – the case is off-limits for the time being," Malfoy answered.

"Why?"

"Ethan made some progress. If you look at the bottom right corner of the case – can you see the little brass time-turner?" Hermione nodded. "Throughout the whole breaking and reassembling cycle, that turner doesn't move."

It was true – the entire corner just stayed in one place, untouched. It was a point of perfect stillness, and as Hermione watched the case fall time and time again, she got the feeling that it was the time-turner that pulled everything else back together just so it can be destroyed again a second later.

"Until a month ago, that time-turner got smashed, just like the rest of them. Ethan and I had some ideas on how to fix the case and one evening he stayed late to try something out. I'm guessing it worked, because the turner got fixed as a result of it."

"Nightin... Charlotte mentioned he was at St Mungo's?"

"He caught Merlin sickness that evening, which is also why we have no idea what it is that he did. Until they figure out how to cure him, the case is off-limits."

Hermione was willing to bet that Draco knew a lot more than he said. Something else worried her as well – the Dame had led her on. When Hermione had expressed interest in researching time-turners, she hadn't said anything. What was that all about?

"You look a little startled, Hermione," the ferret smirked.

"Charlotte never said anything about this."

"Well, she is a very good recruiter."

She was indeed.

"So what will I be doing here then?" Hermione asked as the two of them walked a few steps further to an all too familiar door.

"Well," Malfoy smiled broadly, evidently savouring the moment. "You had a special attitude towards Divination classes in Hogwarts, so I've chosen something appropriate."


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:**

**Hi everyone! I had my birthday recently, and my boyfriend stayed for the week, so I've not had much time to write. I'm a bit frustrated with not having updated in a while, so this chapter is even more rushed than usual.**

**Anyway, here's a fair bit on how the Department of Mysteries works and also on time magic. Enjoy and please consider reviewing!**

**Cheers,**

**Jazz**

* * *

Malfoy pushed the door in front of them. When the chill hit her, Hermione couldn't tell whether it was from the cold or from fear of what she would find inside.

The chamber was impossibly large, just as she remembered it. There were rows upon rows of shelves, reaching as high and as far as the eye could see. All but the three shelves right in front of them were empty.

"Now this is the Hall of Prophecy. We tried to make it a bit smaller, given that we don't have that many prophecies anyway, but the spells never worked properly."

"How come?" Hermione asked. The Reducto spells had worked perfectly well on the shelves six years ago.

"The prophecy records – the little orbs you see – feed off energy, magic included. That's why it's so cold here as well. Simple spells usually work, but nothing big does."

"What do you mean, they feed off energy?"

"We don't know why, they just do. Both the ones that have already happened and the ones which haven't. There is a theory I support but you should do the reading yourself."

That suited Hermione, who didn't care much about the ferret's "theories". He finished the tour by showing her the library (which she wasn't allowed in yet) and her personal office. Malfoy had decided that she should start studying divination and in particular prophecies while he finished his work on the bell jar. He was very pleased with himself for finding her a task on the only topic she actually disliked at school. Hermione, however, decided not to give him the pleasure of seeing her struggle – she would do her reading, and she would do it well. And as soon as he was relocated, she would find someone else to be Keeper of the Hall of Prophecies, and would go and study time-turners.

* * *

Mysteries had its own hall and even though part of Hermione wished to get a breath of normalcy upstairs, she decided it would be best to have lunch with her new colleagues on her first day. Too bad none of them showed up.

At half twelve, the hall was perfectly void of life. It was a large square room with a door at the far end, which presumably led to the kitchens. The walls were covered with posters and papers, and Hermione was surprised to discover that they were all bits of various research done at Mysteries. Square tables made of some sort of white stone were scattered around the room. The chairs around them were all different – there was everything from little three-legged stools to massive armchairs. Most were a rich dark green in colour but two tables had blue chairs instead.

"Would Miss like to take a seat?" the squeaky voice nearly made Hermione jump. A house elf had appeared out of nowhere.

"Erm, yes, thank you." Figuring that the blue tables were meant for division heads – they were roughly the right number – Hermione headed to the nearest green chair. "Why is no one else here?"

"The Masters eat at different times, Miss. And sometimes they forget to eat at all!" the elf shook his head disapprovingly. "But Miss shouldn't worry. Master Zabini and Miss Lovegood are coming now."

And indeed, Hermione could see Zabini and Luna walking inside in animated discussion. As they neared her, she could make out the end of their conversation.

"Okay, I'll catch you after lunch..." Zabini said and then suddenly stopped mid-step as he saw her. "What are you doing here?"

"I work here now. I'm with Mal- Draco in Time." Hermione hadn't realised that while her closest friends knew she was down at Mysteries, nearly no one else did.

"I know that. I mean, what are you doing at this table?"

"Eating lunch? I'm sorry, was this your spot?"

Instead of answering her, Zabini snorted and turned his head to the door.

"Draco, you've forgotten to explain seating arrangements to your subordinate."

Subordinate? Hermione couldn't believe her years. Even hearing her first name from Zabini would be preferable to being called Malfoy's subordinate. Malfoy, who was just entering the hall himself, frowned a little, but didn't speak. Luna did.

"I'll keep Hermione company," she said cheerfully and took one of the available green chairs. Malfoy raised his eyebrows a little and then nodded – a curt, forced gesture.

"Blaise, why don't we take the corner table?"

The two of them strolled to a table at the very end of the room. They didn't even look at each other as they walked but Hermione could tell from the faint whispers that they were discussing something.

"Hey Luna! What was that all about?"

"Nothing important. Some people don't like it if you pick the wrong colour. But it doesn't really matter."

"Wrong colour? You mean I should have sat at a blue table?"

"You can sit wherever you choose, Hermione," – Luna remained as cryptic as ever, but Hermione wouldn't give up so easily.

"Why do different people sit at different tables?"

"It would be inconvenient to all share one table. It could be done, I suppose..."

Hermione let out a frustrated sigh. Luna chuckled. "You look great when you're trying to figure something out, you know."

"Erm, thank you," Hermione blushed at the unexpected compliment. "But can you please answer me?"

"Historically, it's mostly Ravenclaws and Slytherins that work at Mysteries – since desire for knowledge and ambition are both key qualities for the kind of research we do. The hall has been redesigned many times throughout the years but there's a well established tradition of having Slytherin seats and Ravenslaw seats."

"So does this -" Hermione made a vague gesture towards the rest of the hall, " mean there are lots of Slytherins and not many Ravenclaws? What about other houses – where do I sit?"

"As I told you, it's not a very serious thing. There are a bunch of Hufflepuffs and several people Nightingale brought from all over Europe. It's more about picking a side rather than belonging to a house."

"So I guess you usually sit at a Ravenclaw table then?" Hermione asked as a group of wizards walked to the nearest blue table. She had the nasty feeling that they were talking about her.

"Not really. I used to prefer eating on my own," Luna said dreamily. Then she took out her wand and tapped their table twice. Sparks of magic ran across it and to the chairs, changing their colour to a deep red. "But I guess we can have a Gryffindor table now."

* * *

In the following weeks Malfoy kept playing the polite boss. It unnerved Hermione – she knew it was an act but no one else seemed to care. Even though he was civil to her, as her supervisor he made sure she had as little access to department resources as possible. The one time she had complained to Nightingale the witch had only shrugged her shoulders and dismissed her, saying he wasn't strictly speaking doing anything against the rules.

At first Hermione spent her entire days in her office. Malfoy would bring books for her to read – he claimed this was because issuing a library card took some time, though she suspected he was delaying the process on purpose. He gave her topics to research and she wrote essays for him – and that was all there was to her job. She always got her essays back a day or so later, with Malfoy's neat handwriting in red over her work. He didn't mark them as a professor would in school – he just underlined particular sentences and added notes like _"Stoneheart has a similar but more elegant argument (The Magicks of Time, p.135-160)"_ or _"common mistake to make, see Marsters' Time and Energy, p.400-402"_.

Hermione had no idea what Malfoy did apart from read her essays and bring her books. The two rarely talked. Based on their near complete lack of verbal communication, she could have easily assumed Unspeakables quite literally didn't speak. However, various people dropped in looking for him every day, and Zabini in particular never failed to stop to sneer at her and mock her work whenever he was in Time. The no-talking arrangement was most definitely a Malfoy-Granger thing.

Despite all of this, Hermione genuinely enjoyed her work. The books she read were so much more advanced than anything she had seen at the Hogwarts library – there was something really invigorating about reading books only a handful of specialists knew about.

She learnt that the ability to alter time was most likely inborn and only very few wizards had it. Those were usually from families with a history of prophets, which was another reason why the Hall of Prophecy was part of the Time Division. Such wizards – often referred to as time mages – tended to suffer from a variety of mental illnesses and died young.

It was possible – though extremely costly – to capture time magic and lock it in enchanted glass (often mistakenly called crystal instead). Time-turners and the bell jar were examples of this. Prophecy records were slightly different – though made from the same type of enchanted glass, they weren't created by wizards but rather appeared magically on a low jade table in the Time Room whenever a prophecy was made on British soil.

Then there was the whole energy drainage issue with the prophecy records. Some authors suggested the records need energy to sustain themselves, while others thought that perhaps time magic somehow annihilates regular magic and "muggle energy" because it is so much stronger. The latter theory was older, and loosing popularity with time, mostly because it offered a rather arbitrary and unsatisfactory explanation. The problem with the former, however, was that it didn't account for the fluctuation in this drainage. Several experiments suggested – albeit somewhat inconclusively – that the prophecy records feed of energy at varying rates. Further, the "dead" prophecies – those that had already come true – also drained nearly as much energy as the still active ones.

Since the books were accessible to all Mysteries employees, Hermione figured it would be okay to talk about it with Luna. To their mutual surprise, after their first lunch together the red table had remained and the two witches met there nearly every day. The elves who worked in the hall told them they saw no reason to change it back to green and no such order had been given by Nightingale either, though several people had complained.

"So what do you do exactly anyway? It seems to be just me talking most of the time," Hermione asked one day as she an Luna were waiting for lunch to be served.

"Oh, I didn't think you would be interested. Blaise and I are technically part of the Life division, though our work is more interdisciplinary. We study what makes a being magical. With people, some are born wizards, while others are not. But people classify animal species as either entirely magical or purely non-magical. We're currently trying to figure out whether this is really the case."

"Oh wow, this is some heavy stuff!" Hermione was in awe. "Especially since you only arrived very recently."

"Technically, I've been working for Mysteries for a while now. I was searching for rare magical creatures and my expeditions were fully funded by the department. Field work is a bit unusual, which is why I wasn't allowed to tell anyone about it."

"That must have been hard for you." Hermione hadn't thought about it before, but Luna didn't exactly have many friends. Having to choose between them and doing what she really wanted to must have been especially hard on her. It certainly wasn't easy for Hermione herself.

"It wasn't all that bad," the blonde answered to her surprise. "My father used to say that in matters of knowledge one should always listen to one's heart."


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's note:**

**Details on my fanfic-friendly tumblr are on my profile – come say hi if you like! Writing-wise, I'm sorry for the delay. I don't even have an excuse this time!**

**Jazz x**

* * *

At the end of August, Hermione found herself back at Madam Malkin's. It had been been eight years since she purchased her first set of dress robes from the shop, she mused. She had been so anxious then, and so bewildered by what seemed a sea of social codes and rules when it came to wizard clothing. When exactly had she stopped being a girl both nervous and terribly excited about wearing pretty dresses and become a woman who knew how to be comfortable with herself? Was she that kind of woman, really?

Ginny's appearance brought her back to the real world. After all, they were here to pick a wedding dress. "So, how do I look?"

_Gorgeous, as always_, Hermione thought but didn't say anything out loud. The dress was fine, just like the previous eight or nine. It wasn't breathtaking but it still looked pretty great – most clothes did on Ginny.

"Try something without sleeves maybe? I like the embroidery on this one but the sleeves are a bit much."

Seven dresses later even Madam Malkin's patience was at its end. Still, it was only the first of what Hermione suspected would be many days looking for a suitable dress and the young witches weren't discouraged. They headed over to Lavender and Thyme, a tea house that had replaced Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour.

"So what's your mind?" Ginny asked over her cup of tea. "You don't seem like yourself lately."

"Just work, I guess," Hermione answered vaguely. "What gave me away?"

"The fact that I tried the same dress on three times and you didn't seem to notice might have been it."

The truth was that work was going fine for Hermione. She was still writing essays for Malfoy, but at least now she had access to the library and helped out in other departments every now and then. It was something else that bothered her. Something she wasn't sure how to cope with.

"So how is work? The bit of it that you can talk about, that is."

"It's... fine, I guess. It's a bit cliquey but I guess it's like that everywhere."

The Ravenclaws at Mysteries had proven to be a lot more unpleasant than Hermione suspected. One day when Luna had called in sick, she tried to join a group at one of the blue tables. While they didn't refuse her a seat, they did make a point of never addressing her and changed conversation topics whenever she had anything to contribute. By the end of her very uncomfortable lunch break, one of them actually bent down and whispered into her ear that she should better sit at her own table next time. Hermione never even attempted at socialising with the Slytherins.

"Luna's been good company though," she shared, taking a deep breath.

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked, intrigued by the almost innocent detail.

"We've been seeing each other for lunch a lot at the department. And for dinner – she's teaching me how to cook."

Hermione really needed to talk to someone about this. Harry and Ginny were the only people she had ever come out to. She had the gut feeling Ron wouldn't take it that well even before they were dating. Mostly, it wasn't something Hermione gave much thought – which is how she justified to herself keeping it secret. In her world, romantic relationships followed a simple pattern: guy asks her out, she agrees, they start dating, she gets bored, the end. For all of her supposed Gryffindor courage and the years spent with Ron and Harry, she still found it difficult to flirt with men. And men were the ones she was used to working with and being close to! Approaching a woman presented a whole new level of social awkwardness.

And then there was Luna, who was the personification of social awkwardness, even without any additional... awkwardness. Their lunch meetings had led to working in the library together, cooking lessons over dinner, exploring muggle London and frequent visits to Hogsmeade – sometimes alongside other keen colleagues. With all of the time the two spent together, Hermione eventually found herself interested, for the lack of a better word.

"Hello? Anybody home?" Ginny waved a hand in front of Hermione to check whether her friend is still awake and in the room.

"Sorry, I was lost in thought."

"You seem to be doing that a lot today. I was saying that Harry and Ron would both be pleased to know about the cooking lessons. From what I've heard you really need them."

"Luna's a good cook but not that great a teacher, I have to admit. Don't tell her I said that."

"I won't. So... anything else you want to tell me?" the redhead decided she would get to the bottom of this. Frankly, Hermione was grateful. She needed a nudge to start talking.

"I... ergh. You know how sometimes you sort of flirt with someone and they sort of flirt back, only you're not certain they really do?"

"I don't, actually. I try to be more straightforward" Ginny said and then paused for a while, sipping her tea and contemplating something. "Luna's gay you know."

"Why would you think I'm talking about Luna?" Hermione's attempt to sound uninterested was pitiful even to her own ears.

"Mione, the only people you ever talk about are Luna and Draco Malfoy and I've never heard you say anything remotely nice about him. I can add two and two together."

"Oh."

"Anyway, I'm not usually in the business of outing people but if you haven't figured it out yet then you evidently need some help. Besides, I was left with the impression she's pretty open about it. I mean, even Ron knows."

"How can Ron know something that I don't?"

"He reads gossip columns and you don't."

* * *

Ginny's input had left Hermione unable to concentrate on work very well. She figured she should talk to Luna, invite her on a date maybe. However, first she would have to go through her daily dose of essay writing, or so she thought. When Malfoy came knocked on her door he wasn't carrying the usual morning stack of books.

"Morning, Hermione" he said, somewhat cheerfully. He was eating an apple, and the scent hit Hermione.

"Good morning," she answered without even looking up from her desk. If he wasn't her boss, she would have told him off for eating in her office. Maybe she should have anyway.

"We're done with essays for the time being. Come with me to the Jade Table, please."

The Jade Table was right at the entrance of the Hall of Prophecies. It looked like a rather crude stone coffee table. On it, there was a brand new prophecy record.

"As you can see, a prophecy was recently made and we got a record. They usually appear in batches – I'd expect a few more over the next couple of weeks," Malfoy explained.

"Marsters reckons this is because prophecies are attracted to high energy periods – so they usually appear during times of unusually high magical activity and are about important future events."

"Yes. There are, of course, exceptions – like Frodo the Gluttonous, who never failed to predict his dinner right after breakfast. Anyway, as Keeper of the Hall, you're expected to read the prophecy, tag it and pack it away."

Malfoy proceeded to tell her the appropriate incantations, but refused to demonstrate. With an enchanted quill by her side, Hermione cast the charm. The spell left her slightly disoriented, just like using a time-turner did when she was fourteen. A woman made of faintly glowing smoke appeared and sat on the edge of the jade table. The prophecy, though not broken, was being read.

"_In celebration of the dying year, a moonlit flower shall lay upon a fertile meadow. A girl shall be born of this union, but she shall be deaf to our world, unless her father accepts her as his own."_

The woman faded as soon as her last word was spoken.

"What was that about?" Hermione asked. "What am I supposed to do now?"

"Figure out who the prophecy is about. By the sounds of it, it concerns three people – a couple and their unborn – not yet conceived even – child. If this is the case, you need to identify the future parents, write down their names and make sure you go back to the record once the child is born and named, so you can fill in the missing information."

"How am I supposed to do that? Moonlit flower and fertile meadow! This sounds like some sort of wacky gardening prophecy," Hermione didn't even try to hide the contempt in her voice. The ferret's task sounded like a bad joke.

"Figure it out by tonight and leave a report on my desk."

Cursing Malfoy under her breath, the witch headed to the library. She left the parchment with the prophecy text on her favourite spot and looked for the botanical section of the library. There, she stacked a few books on flowers and various other plants with magical properties, and then moved on to look for information on British meadows of importance. By the time she came back to her desk, the pile of books was so high she struggled to keep it in balance.

Four hours later, Hermione had to admit that all of her efforts had been in vain. She couldn't find anything that could help her figure out the cryptic prophecy. She sighed and looked up, stretching her back, only to discover that Luna was sitting right opposite her.

"Hey, when did you arrive?" Hermione asked, startled.

"A couple of hours ago. You seemed busy and I didn't want to interrupt."

Luna had no less than five books simultaneously open in front of her and seemed to be working with all of them at the same time, ink-stained fingers frantically switching between quills for her multicoloured notes. She was sitting cross-legged on her chair, and her blond hair was in a messy bun held only by her wand. Hermione thought she looked perfect.

"Hey, mind if I borrow that for a second?" Luna asked, pointing at _Legendary Flowers in Western Europe_. Hermione passed her the book. "Why are you reading it anyway? Are you helping Blaise?"

"No, I'm working on a prophecy. Draco gave me my first record to sort, and I'm stuck," Hermione said.

"No luck with the Registry then?"

"What registry?" The bushy-haired witch realised that, yet again, she didn't know nearly enough about working at Mysteries.

"Ethan always used the Registry to sort prophecies. It contains family trees, et cetera, for all known wizards in Britain. I don't know what he used it for, exactly."

Not having anything better to do, Hermione went for the Registry. It wouldn't be of much use if this was a botanical issue, but there was no harm in trying. So she set the heavy leather-bound book in front of her and turned it at a random page. It turned out to be the Prince family tree. Right at the bottom, she saw Severus Snape's name, and after tapping it with her wand, a short biography of her former potions teacher appeared over the family tree. Half an hour of aimless browsing later, Hermione decided that even if it was completely useless, the Registry was one cool book. It took her a lot of self-discipline not to stalk everyone she ever knew.

Hermione let her mind wonder. She was thinking about names – wizards had such curious ideas when it came to naming. Nearly every name meant something (more obviously so than with muggle names) – Luna, Draco, Black, Lupin. Lupin was rather ironic, actually.

Then it clicked. She knew how to solve the puzzle. It was so simple that she was actually a bit embarrassed she hadn't figured it out earlier. Happy with the sudden discovery, Hermione asked:

"Luna, are you free tonight? There's an exhibition I thought we could go to."

"Sounds nice," Luna answered, dreamily.

"Can I pick you up at seven?"

The blonde nodded and smiled.

* * *

At quarter to four Hermione went to see Draco Malfoy. He was still working on his bell jar, moulding a bit of glass about six feet above ground when she called.

"I told you not to bother me before you've finished investigating the prophecy" he said in a low voice while levitating himself back to where Hermione stood.

"I'm done. Here's your report." She handed him a tightly bound scroll.

"I'll read it later. Tell me about it." Malfoy sounded unconvinced.

"Both 'moonlit flower' and 'meadow' refer to names. Since the meadow is described as fertile, my guess was that it referred to the woman, while the flower was the future father in the prophecy. Finding her was easy – meadow implies green grass, and there are only three living women in the Greengrass family – Astoria, Daphne and their mother Caroline. Caroline Greengrass is too old to bear any more children now, and according to ministry medical records, Daphne suffered severe newt pox as a child, which caused infertility. That leaves Astoria Greengrass as the mother. 'Moonlit flower' was a bit more difficult to trace. The male name Badar means 'full moon', while a large number of cereus cacti bloom at night – and Badar Cereus is a family friend of the Greengrasses, a few years older than Astoria. I looked into it further, and it turns out that the Cereus family is putting a lot of pressure on him to marry one of the Patil twins, which would explain why he may be reluctant to recognise an accidental child as his. And child anxiety – which could easily be due to the stress of living as a bastard in a pureblood family – is one of the leading causes for lack of magical powers in squibs. This, I believe, is why according to the prophecy their daughter would be deaf to our world."

Hermione looked questioningly at Malfoy. All thought of him being the immature imbecile was gone from her, for a second at least. Here and now he was her boss and her mentor – and she desperately needed his approval. He let out one of his trademark smirks – or maybe it was a smile.

"Good job, Hermione."


End file.
